Demons mating
by Byouma
Summary: -AU- Hinata has gotten herself in some serious trouble and has been sent to some kind of really doubtful reformatory school where she meets all kinds of people she might have prefer not to come in contact with. GaaHinaNeji
1. Chapter 1

::chapter 1 ::

Sliding out of the silken sheets of the canopy decorated bed; she bent down to seize a red satin robe, lying on the ground like a corpse. Her backbone straightened; the fabric she held flowing like a ghost in the air.

Her snow-white arms slid into the sleeves, cautious not to hasten themselves and generate more noise than necessary. Once all her flesh, from her back to her ribs, was covered, she let a breath penetrate her lungs, heaving elegantly an exposed milky chest. She did not seem to care about the nude state of the front of her body, satisfied by some furtive shift of the clothing on her hips.

Her head turned around; long strands of black following its motion. The eyes that adorned an oval visage, enlightened by one lonely candle shining on the Victorian stand her father had made come from France, set themselves upon a form spread, naked, on the sheets she had left.

In a fraction of a second, her delicate features, from relaxed, passed to an expression of utter disgust. She had been able to forget for an instant what she was doing undressed in that man's bed, yet her oblivion had not lasted long enough for her liking.

From that man's silhouette, her orbs fluttered to the grandfather clock announcing midnight in five minutes placed at the other extremity of the vast bedroom. She only had five minutes to get ready.

Each one of her steps carrying her nearer the stand was elegant and sly, like a dancer's. Once posted in front of the piece of furniture, she extended an ashen hand. It grabbed the handle of the only drawer, deftly tugging it out, praying Kami for it not to screech.

Inside of the wooden drawer, a gun was concealed, a pair of plastic gloves covering it by their transparency. The hand that had held the handle came to caress the gloves, removing them with extreme care. She was not scared of what was to happen. She would not accept her act to be disregarded as she had been. She wanted for everybody to raise their eyes and look at her face. She desired to hear them whisper when she would walk by their side to join the court and be judged. She yearned for their fear, as she had dreaded them. She needed to feel acknowledged just once. Not like a Hyūga, not like the mysterious woman always accompanying Hyūga Hiashi to his cocktails and parties. She sought to be known as Hyūga Hanabi's sister, the averted heir she was from her eleventh birthday. She required to be looked at like the mastermind of the happenings of the twenty-seventh of December. Only her and nobody else.

Those were the reasons she gripped the rifle's haft, skilfully moving it towards the candle's shivering light.

It was a Ruger KMKIII678 Hunter. A cheap American pistol she didn't understand what her father was doing with. Neji-nii-san, who generally preferred German technology, had tried to explain to her the advantages of such a weapon. It seems it featured good safety mechanisms, the world's first loaded chamber indicator for a .22 rimfire pistol and other things she didn't understand a word about.

The only thing she knew was that in her father's case, she only would have to pull the trigger and everything should end quite fast. That was the only good thing with his paranoia. A loaded gun to her reach.

With the sway of her hips years of wearing high-heel shoes could only give, she approached the sleeping form on the mattress. The clock was sinisterly proclaiming midnight. At the last chime, she bent down over the man's face, her lips grazing his forehead with a sickened affection.

"G-gōmen n-nasai, O-otō-s-sama … I a-am n-n-not Oka-s-sama …"

Lulled by the noise of screams in the Hyūga compound situated at Kyōto, hushed by a tommy gun, she raised the pistol she was holding with a shaky arm. She would have wanted to restrain the salty streams of liquid running down her cheeks, yet couldn't. She was on the border of cutting all the possible bonds with her family. Her dead family at that time.

Gracefully placing the edge of the barrel on the man's temple, her index quivered when faintly towing the trigger. She necessitated force, she required will.

He was the monster that had enchained her. That had transformed her in a simple slave left to his only pleasure. Nobody was aware about her. Everybody knew what he wanted to expose. He preferred for her to be referred to as his younger mistress, whose role she already played, than his failure of a daughter, which she never had been.

The trigger moved violently, releasing a bullet that installed itself in his brain, destroying all the connections with his body, splattering her visage, neck and breasts with blood.

It was done. Finally! She was free!

When she prepared to step away, scarcely affected by her doings, the heavy ebony door behind her back unlocked and a man, physically resembling the corpse on the bed, came in, a tommy gun in the left hand.

She turned around, allowing his pale eyes to wander over her tainted body.

"You are done?"

His deep voice made her heartbeats accelerated, her white skin flushing under the scarlet liquid.

"N-Neji-n-nii-s-san …"

She noticed that his garments were the color of night, his long tresses of smooth brown hair tied low on the nape of his neck. He was beautiful.

He was following the same train of thoughts, just about her. If it wasn't for the lack of time, he would have taken her there, on the Persian carpet under the bed where the corpse of the Devil was losing his fluids. The blood that smeared her was so enticing, so attracting. He had the urge to taste it on her lips.

"The Akatsuki did a good job."

Was he that desperate not to be chained to her by temptation that he needed to refer to the mercenaries they had hired?

"I shot her by my own." he whispered, noting the worries dawning in her pupils.

She let a relieved sigh escape her.

He lazily looked around him.

"We should get going, and let the Akatsuki scavenge for their payments. They are excited like kids to empty the place."

Her eyes broke the contact they had with Neji's. He of course perceived her intern struggles as well as the fact she had not used the gloves not to leave any fingerprints behind. There was nobody in this wide world that understood her as well as he did. He comprehended how this would end and accepted it. What he did not accept was the fact he would not be able to thank her conveniently for the liberty she was offering him.

"I-I am s-staying, n-nii-s-san …"

Before she realized what happened, her arms were pinned above her head with a leather gloved hand, while the other still had a grip on the weapon, her back immolated to the wall. A mouth came crashing upon hers, tongue licking her clean from the blood on her lower lip, before biting it ferociously, delighted by her own fluid.

Gasping from shock at such an animalistic assault, she slightly opened her mouth, giving his tongue the chance to enter her with brutality. He called for so much more, yet knew that if he wanted her safe, the traces left by Hiashi had to remain and not be mingled with his owns. Giving him a second more to wrestle with her tongue, violating the inside of her mouth with need, he let go of her arms that fell to the side of her body, one encumbered by the Ruger, the other free to receive his Selbstladebüchse BD-38, a copy of the antique MP40 used during World War II by the Germans. He pushed the weapon in her palm, not caring to let go of his baby he had received two years ago for his birthday.

"Take care, Hinata-sama. I will come to pick you up when the trial will be done … if they do not judge you to the capital sentence of course."

He turned his heels around, exiting the room, leaving the young woman alone with her father's corpse.

°°

"Can you believe that? I just cannot imagine that those idiots from Nishikyō-ku thought one sixteen-year-old little girl killed over two hundred people by her own in one hour. Thank Kami it is to Shimogyō-ku to take care of the investigation. At least we know the difference between a bomb and a grenade."

"There were bombs? No way!"

"No, grenades. And other people were cut into pieces with a katana signed Bizen Kuni Osafune Yoshikage, from the Nambokucho era, early fourteenth century, as well as with a Polish War scythe, used by Polish peasants in the eighteenth and nineteenth century."

"Woah, what kind of a sicko is that chick?!"

"Baka, think! The murders have taken place between midnight and one o'clock in the morning. An only person cannot kill two hundred people in that time by her own, changing weapons each fifteen minutes. Look!"

Two policemen from the Shimogyō-ku center, the main headquarters of Kyōto's police, sitting in front of a hot coffee, were heartily discussing about the greatest massacre ever, worse than the Uchiha clan's. It was the second time that in Kyōto's history a great family of yakuza was so easily exterminated, without any traces left behind than a survivor.

The man that appeared the oldest was showing a document to one of his associates.

"If it truly was her she would have used an American Ruger KMKIII678 Hunter, a German Selbstladebüchse BD-38, a Polish War scythe from the eighteenth century, a katana from the Nambokucho era, normal grenades you can buy everywhere, cords and her own hands. Did you even see the girl?! She is so slender you could break her. She may be whoever she is …"

"Wait, what do you mean by 'whoever she is'? Isn't she Hyūga Hiashi's younger mistress?"

The more experienced policeman took out a magazine from the file that was bearing the name of Hyūga Hinata. Flipping the pages, he stopped on a page exclusively filled with gossip. The biggest photograph was featuring a tall man with long black hair, pearl-coloured eyes, dressed in a tux, a very young woman wearing a revealing black dress matching the tint of her soft strands, featuring the same eyes as he was, hanging on his arm. Underneath that picture the note that had been written by quite an obnoxious hand made the younger police officer frown.

'_The billionaire Hyūga Hiashi, leader of the prestigious Hyūga clan, has been seen in company of a very young woman going to the Minami-za kabuki theatre in __Miyagawachō__. The young woman in question__ did not appear to be a direct member of his family unit. The mysterious young girl in question would be, according to reliable sources, a fifteen-year old member of the S__ōke, the leading branch of the clan, whose parents have died in a car accident when she was eleven, and that since that time enjoyed the older man's special attention__. Our faithful readers that follow this column since ten years at least, would notice the deranging likeness miss Mysterious Hy__ūga has with late Hyūga Haruki, Hyūga Hiashi's wife and the clan heir's mother. Could I say that the young girl is the double of the woman. It seems Japan's richest man not only has a liking for little girls but is also desperate to find a replacement for his wife that had died with their oldest daughter, whose name had never been revealed, in an arson set by hateful enemies of the now annihilated Uchiha clan, ten years ago …_'

"Eww, that man was a real pedophile. You think he raped the girl for years and she wanted to avenge herself by killing him and her clan?"

"I already told you she couldn't have killed them. No, there is something darker behind this than just pedophilia. Read this."

He handed him a paper. The scowl of the police officer deepened even more. Once he had read the whole page, he turned to look at his superior.

"The guy had had sex with her half an hour before he was shot in the head. And she is only sixteen, right?"

"Yeah, and now, this."

A last paper was handed.

A copy of the girl's birth certificate.

'_Name: Hyūga Hinata_

_Birth date: 27__th__ of December_

_Birth place: Kyot__ō, Nishikyō-ku district_

_Mother: Hy__ūga Haruki_

_Father: Hyūga Hiashi_'

"Tell me this is a falsification …"

"No …"

"This is so fucking sick! You're sure the girl is Hyūga Hinata?"

"Yes, she is. DNA tests concord. She is Hyūga Hiashi's daughter and Hyūga Hanabi's sister. That is why I do not think she killed Hyūga Hiashi. And then, think about this. Katana, scythe, explosives …"

"Hoshigaki Kisame, Hidan and Deidara …"

"Exactly!"

"But then, how do you explain that she was covered in blood and that the only fingerprints found on the pistol and the tommy gun were hers, and that besides her, the only remaining member of the family is Hyūga Neji."

"Hyūga Neji was out in town, banging a hooker. We have proves. As for the blood and the guns, you know very well how they proceed. You remember the Uchiha affair. She was the weakest. They just left her behind, obliging her to hold the weapons under threats and now everybody thinks she slaughtered the whole clan, which is impossible. They wanted her to give them enough time to get rid of their evidence."

"Why is it so impossible?! Uchiha Itachi did it!"

"Uchiha Itachi is a genius. He poisoned the water flowing through the pipes of the Uchiha compound, cut down the electricity, and choked his parents. Hyūga Hinata is an excellent student, yet with talking problems and a sickly introversion. She was shunned by her peers and family, constantly raped by her father, and lives a traumatism because of the death of her family. According to what has been said by her cousin, she is too sweet of a person to even think about killing an insect. And in her psychiatrist's opinion, she suffers from a strange derivative of the Stockholm's syndrome. She believed that what her father did to her was legitimate. She did not consider it as bad. She thought it was love and loved him back in that very way. She did not kill them. Some competitor hired the Akatsuki to get rid of the clan. The mercenaries thought they could use her to avert everybody's attention for awhile, and they succeeded."

"Yeah, maybe, but still all the evidence is against her. Where is she anyways?"

"In some kind of psychiatric hospital outside of Honshū."

"What do you think will happen to her?"

"She will be accused for the murder of Hyūga Hiashi only, as she has no idea how to use a tommy gun and as the pistol she used was already loaded according to Hyūga Neji who says his uncle always had one by hand. However, because of the abuse of a minor Hyūga Hiashi is guilty of, she will not be put into prison. Her age should send her directly to reformatory school, then again because of the Akatsuki being involved and the mitigating circumstances, that will not occur. So tell me, where do we send murders too young for prison and too frail for reformatory?"

"Konoha gakuen."

"Exactly."

°°

It felt so strange not to be wearing any Marc Jacobs or Versace at the moment. After sixteen years of being bent to the will of fashion designers you get used to it, as when your body gets accustomed to a drug. It was also very weird to be sitting in a crummy little Toyota when she only was accustomed to her leather-seated Rolls Royce.

Her white hands straightened the crinkles of her white cotton dress, daintily shoving them down her knees. That dress was an ugly thing without any form. Just a blank piece of fabric falling from her shoulders in a straight line to her calves. She met two chocolate eyes in the driving mirror in front of her. Nakamura-san was inspecting her with concern. Her social worker was very involved with her ever since he found out why she had been placed under his care. He had been very thoughtful as well as his wife, that seemed to appreciate grandly her mild and helpful spirit. In fact, they had proposed to adopt her, charmed by her seriousness, her excellent marks and the way she did not make any problems, yet the court had refused to give away the perfect Japanese girl, future wife, and daughter, preferring to remit her into the doubtful hands of Konoha gakuen's workers. Of course he had bowed to the decision of his superiors.

And now he was sitting in his little Toyota driving her towards her new environment with a certain rue.

"So, are you excited, Hinata-chan?"

He could hear his disappointment piercing through the enthusiastic tone of his voice. He examined the young girl some more. She appeared to be very nervous; feeling how the atmosphere was getting heavier as they approached what would be her new home.

"Ano …H-hai, N-Na-Nakamura-s-san, I-I-I am v-v-very e-excited ..."

She couldn't mislead him about her emotions. He could see how uncomfortable she felt, how little she wanted to adapt herself for another time in a few months. From member of the richest clan ever, to murderer, passing by simple girl and now delinquent, she had undergone pretty much everything imaginable.

"Everything will be just fine, Hinata-chan. It is an absolutely normal boarding-school. You will have plenty of friends, I am sure about it."

She though was not that sure.

Nakamura finally slowed down in front of a heavy gate, adorned with a leaf with a large K written as a stylized silver rōmaji letter.

Cameras were frenetically turning to all the sides, getting a hold of their image. After a few minutes, the gates opened up in a screeching noise, after the electricity running through the bars had been cut down.

They drove into a very elegant aisle surrounded by beautiful trees, making Hinata forget right away about the barbed wires she had noticed above the gates.

This place seemed so … peaceful. It reminded her of one of Hyūga's secondary dwellings. The one they had in Okinawa. Of course, it was all beaches, and palm trees, but still it was so peaceful and beautiful just like the impression this place gave to her.

However, that impression did not last for long. Indeed, when they got a glimpse of the school, all her good feelings dissipated.

The building, called Kage building, she would learn after, was Konoha's principal wing as well as the chūgakkō. There was the shōgakkō, just beside it. And finally the daigaku, one of the best of Japan, offering outstanding military formations, medical training and other things, very selective as well as only youth with a police record was accepted in it. Nevertheless, all three of the edifices were sinister. Made of grey rocks, they were erect like three dragons, making her feel suffocated. Something cold emanated from that place, contrasting oddly with the peaceful warmness of the passageway they had driven through.

But that was not the only deranging thing. In fact what actually made her so tense were the people that were sitting in front of the Kage building. Girls and boys yelling playfully after each other, passing something that gave the impression of being a mini cigarette, groping each other in very suggestive ways.

They appeared to be so different from her friends. Well, the friends she had had when going to high school but that abandoned her when her relationship with her father was divulged. Those acquaintances of hers were all so elegant and calm, not at all as noisy and somewhat dangerous as the people she was looking at when passing by their side. Of course, some of them were smoking, drinking liquors and … doing other things between each other, just as much as those people in front of her, yet it gave the impression of always being somehow more distinguished than what she was actually staring at.

The car parked just in front of the principal wing, facing those people that had to be even younger than she was.

She was half expecting to see Neji-nii-san get out before her and open the door of the car for her, yet he was not there. Not there to give her courage, because they were refused to ever enter in contact for her time being in that Konoha gakuen. Therefore, she opened the door by herself and stepped out in the hideous clothing she was wearing for all eyes to turn towards her.

A new chick that most probably had done some ugly stuff. Big deal. The attention they gave her disappeared after a glance or two, leaving her standing in front of that gigantic dragon the Kage building was, shiver after shiver travelling through her backbone.


	2. Chapter 2

**A little vocabulary :**

**Gakuen : academy**

**Shōgakkō: elementary school**

**Chūgakkō: high school**

**Daigaku: university**

**Jukuchō: a private school's headmaster**

**Turkish taste: piquant taste used for cigarettes **

**Thank you for the review I have received, it is very appreciated! I hope you guys will enjoy the chapter!**

::Chapter 2 ::

Fright made her intestine shrivel up painfully. The white walls reminding her of St-Junko psychiatric hospital asphyxiated her. She had great difficulty breathing decently. Inhaling was as painful as a stab in the heart could be. She felt so exposed, as if an enemy would jump out of any passageway to slit her throat open, which most probably would happen a day or another in such a place.

It was unconsciously that she followed Nakamura's rhythmic little steps upstairs, to the right, then to the left, in a certain passageway than in another, too absorbed by her self-pity.

When finally he stopped coursing through the whole place, the hair her bowed head sent over her eyes hindered her in distinguishing his silhouette. Hence, she walked head first into his back, squeezing quite a feminine squeal out of her social worker.

"Ano … G-gōmen n-nasai, N-Nakamura-s-san …"

Her stutter sounded so silly to her, that her signature blush crept to cover her porcelain flesh in shame. She could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, whilst her head started turning. She was so embarrassed.

"It is alright, Hinata-chan."

He appeared to be as nervous as she was, maybe more. The frenetic movements of his fingers against his outrageous jacket her father would have burned, him still being inside of it established her mental statement. Sucking in a deep breath, he dared raising his shaky hand to knock at the door he was facing. In no time, a bark came as an invitation for them to come in. Of course, such an answer, unexpected by Hinata as much as by her companion, made the atmosphere even heavier than it already was. As Nakamura, stunned by the impolite behaviour he was greeted with, did not seem to be able to turn the doorknob, the door flung open, a few seconds after Hinata had finished reading the sign on it. _Tsunade, Konoha gakuen jukuchō_.

"WHAT?!"

A busty blond emerged in the doorframe, an absolutely furious expression plastered across her harmonious features.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!"

Her biting voice was muffled by something Hinata could quite well put a hand on, as her father would be in her company in such a state quite often. That woman was drunk. A bottle of sake in the hand, she was piercing the two newcomers with her hazel eyes, waiting for them to reveal their intentions. In the background, restrained cries were to be heard, making Hinata's petite form quiver in sheer panic.

"You Nakamura?"

The inebriated blond pointed a long finger on Nakamura that was pulling on his tie with strength. Gulping loudly, his chocolate eyes wandered around to fix themselves on the woman's generous breasts, before escaping that sight with a blush that could compete with his protégée's. He nodded uncertainly.

"Good, you're late. Get your ass in there …"

She shoved herself out of the way, for Nakamura, Hinata grasping childishly his sleeve, to enter her office.

Inside, for her greatest shock, the strangest of shows was displayed.

A man, bent in two, was being kicked in the stomach by an older one. The victim was doing his best no to whine in pain, biting his tongue with all his jaw-power. The executioner, a tall brown-haired male, a cigarette imprisoned in-between his relaxed lips, was restlessly thrusting his knee in the soft flesh of his prey's stomach, baring a disinterested air.

She had seen such things before. In her father's bureau, in occurrence. Yet, in a school, she would have assumed that people would be safe. The acts she was attending to at the moment confirmed how naïve she still was.

"Sit there."

Again, the drunken woman was calling them out; designating Nakamura the only chair there was facing her desk. Hinata understood right away that she would not be acknowledged by that strange person. She frankly did not regret it in any way, entirely captivated by the scene going off in front of her. There was something … stirring in the way those two bodies engaged in some sort of ritual. Like animals confirming each others rank in the hierarchy.

"So she that Hyūga, huh?! Well, well, well, let's see what her record has to say. Where the fuck did that put that piece of shit?! SHIZUNE! SHIZUNE! WHERE THE FUCK IS THE HYŪGA'S RECORD?!"

A younger woman, short black hair flowing behind her, ran into the room, sweat pearling on her temples, stumbling before the papers she was holding flew out of her grip and landed right in front of the rude one's orbs.

The blond one, not at all disturbed by the black-haired woman's fall, opened the file that magically emerged out of thin air. Her secretary, at least that was what Hinata thought the younger one was to that flaxen fury, struggled to get up while her boss gave the impression not to be able to read a word.

"FUCK, ASUMA! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF MY OFFICE, YOU MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE, SHIT-HEAD!"

The man that had been kicking the living lights out of the poor guy's stomach only let go of his victim, turning his heels around without any greetings nor signs of respect to what seemed to be his superior, leaving the other man staggering on his weak legs. That one, hesitantly straightening his body, met two pearl-dyed doe-like orbs inspecting him with curiosity.

Connecting with a deep, brown gaze, Hinata turned her head away, her omnipresent flush intensifying. After a few seconds, she risked a new glimpse, only to discover she was being checked out with concupiscence. Her head started to turn even more than before. She could not feel any malice in those eyes, however she had learned throughout her days by her father's side to fear all glances like those.

Yet, she couldn't control her own eyes to wander on that man's form. He must have not been that older than she was, but still at least half a head taller than she was and most probably two times as big as she was. He had a tanned, strong skin that seemed to glow, a messy, thick coffee mane and a wolfish grin that unveiled oversized canines, tainted with his own blood at the moment. She followed his tongue as it licked away those stains, her glimpse passing from his mouth to his cheeks. There she encountered strange tattoos that were not unfamiliar to her. Their red shade reminding blood mesmerized her for an instant.

A little chuckle drew her out of her day-dream. He was laughing at her, whilst Nakamura and that rabid woman were discussing matters completely unknown to her. He had noticed the way she had been looking at him as if he was some strange new specie she had discovered and seemed to find it quite entertaining.

Noting the exchange between the two teenagers, the blond woman, irritated by Nakamura's stammering descriptions of that Hyūga girl that appeared to her more like a little manipulator than an angel, barked for the boy to exit her office.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE, INUZUKA?! GET OUT! AND THE NEXT TIME I HEAR ABOUT YOU GETTING INVOLVED IN A FIGHT, I'LL BUTTERFLY YOUR FINGERS!"

The tattooed boy only shrugged, not at all bothered by the blood leaking down a cut on his eyebrow, limping towards the door and helping the fallen woman on his way up with a hand. He was smirking with arrogance, as if he as well had discovered a new specie.

A snap of white fingers made Hinata jump in surprise.

"Hey, Hyūga! Look over here. I want everything to be clear between you and me. I am Tsunade, the principal of this hole. I don't give a fuck if you are the last remaining member of the once richest clan ever or whatever your family was, here you are nothing more than a scum-sucking rodent, understood?! If ever you do something against the rules of the academy, the same thing will happen to you as to that boy you have seen. I do not want to hear about you, 'cause I am gonna take care of you personally. You will attend your classes; you will shut up and do whatever your teachers tell you. No weapons or any instrument judged dangerous are aloud. The curfew starts at 9 o'clock of the evening. If you're not in your room by then, we will unleash the dogs on you. That's everything I've gotta tell you, you can get lost now, Shizune will show you your room."

°°

It just felt so strange. She truly had the impression of being back to that sordid asylum. Those white walls swallowing her up made her head spin. She felt sick.

Her habitation consisted of a medium-sized room filled with a table in a corner for her school works and a bed, very occidental in style, in another angle. Annexed to that room, separated from it by a wooden door, was the washroom situated. Washroom: a minuscule toilet and a sink. The showers had to be taken in community. With other people, other girls thank Kami, yet naked, exposed. It already appalled her. She did not appreciate for her body to be uncovered. It was a repulsion she had developed when she had turned twelve for various reasons. It was something that had greatly annoyed Neji. He appreciated to have the lights on when with her. She supposed it was to satisfy his inner pervert.

Laying there, on her hard, narrow bed, she started at the ceiling. It was … blank.

She couldn't believe what had happened for only a few months. It was inconceivable … She needed a Sobranie Black Russian. Those were Neji's favourite cigarettes he was importing from Russia. They were not the most expensive but he simply couldn't stand the taste of those American pieces of crap his friends where inhaling. He had extended his bad habits to her, and she had found herself hooked to those slim, long pieces of heaven. She could still after those months of privation feel the strong, piquant, indescribable taste of Neji's saliva mingled with the cigarette's fumes lull on her tongue, driving her crazy with craving. Wolfing the smoke and letting the Turkish scent exhilarate each cell of your lungs was a pleasure ten times better than sex. It was like an orgasmic wave reverberating from your body to your soul, amplified to no extend. However what even was greater than a Black Russian smouldering in a hand, while silhouette lying naked in red satin sheets, was the two only pleasures she was allowed combined in an explosive mixture.

Eyes closed, concealing those hideous inexistent pupils, motionless like and oversized porcelain doll, anybody would have thought she already had committed suicide. Yet, she was at the moment dreaming of things more satisfying than cutting her veins like cheap coupons. Neji's body appeared in her phantasm as well as the odour of a burning cigarette invaded her nostrils.

She could still feel him slamming in her with hate and pure animal need, his teeth grazing her offered throat. Her cries of pleasure would resound throughout the whole compound whilst one of her white legs would curl around his hip, placing itself on his last vertebras, maintaining him so close. They would interweave each others forms in their respective locks, so silky that watering down their sweaty backs, so strong for any strangling envy. Her backbone had always this reflex of arching, giving him more access to bruise her further, never-endingly and hear her beg for more, always more. He was so harsh, so pure, so … purging.

Speeding up his pace, her head would be thrown back; eyelids shut fiercely, lips half opened. Then, and only then, would her hand be hustling over the babyish night stand by her bed's side, desperately searching the source of the delicious vapours driving her crazy. She would burn herself, only adding to the pleasure of his movements inside of her, of his growls stifled by the crook of her neck. When finally her fingers would close up on the Sobranie, she would bring the cigarette to her mouth, doing her best for the quakes convulsing her body not to disturb her actions. The puffs she would draw out of the fine black paper would only magnify the effect her cousin's love bites had on her being. Once their release would occur, she had taken the aggressive habit of stubbing the cigarette out in his shoulder blade, tears of ultimate bliss crossing her cheeks. She was so fucking sick. Those were the days she believed she was utterly in love with it … she meant him.

Stupid girl.

She was sixteen; she was his cousin's loophole, her mother's image for her father, a scapegoat for her sister, a murderer for the world, had white lavender-tinted eyes, long, glossy black hair and had no fucking idea of what the external humankind was like. In other words she was diverting like an abandoned vessel. And she urgently needed a Sobranie Black Russian … or … well, Neji would do it!

°°

It's when you think things cannot get worst that it truly gets ugly. She had passed the whole afternoon in her cell, mourning over the lost years. Hey, she was the one that had decided for her life to be so! Nakamura had left her there, as he no more was taking her in charge, only wishing her good luck.

When dinnertime was announced through the intercoms all over the hallways, she knew at the tone of the voice she shouldn't be late. Already she had learned the map of that hellhole by heart not to be obliged to depend on people. She could direct herself without any help, and she wouldn't even had dared to approach those masked guards, their backs leaning to the wall, only waiting for somebody to act up. Frankly, who would be foolish enough to engage conversation with a man that did not have the courage of displaying his identity and bore the title of Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai with pride. The Special Assassination and Tactical Squad. Enough to make one hyperventilate. And she would not have been one to be qualified by a strong health.

Stepping out of her cell, she was swallowed up by a horde of girls of all ages, from twelve to eighteen, evolving towards the same place she was. As it was Sunday, nobody was wearing the gruesome uniform she would adopt the next morning. Exhibiting their respective styles, Hinata already could differentiate the popular people from the rejects. Dressed as she was, she would be discarded for sure, when before she was one of the members of the leading gang in her school. So many changes.

She could distinguish the popular girls in front of her as they were laughing loudly and expressing themselves crudely. It was easy to comprehend the concepts in arrears ruling that place. More your crimes were horrid, better you were placed.

Just facing her were the backs of three girls discussing sexual experiences in quite a sickening manner, and it was noticeable by the way their peers formed a circle around them, that they were feared beyond comprehension. They were dangerous. Each time the blond one would turn her head towards a pink-haired, yes PINK-haired foreheaded girl, the other females staring at her would redirect their glances anywhere to avoid eye-contact. And then again, each time the third girl, her head adorned with ridiculous buns, would let out a howl of laughter, Hinata noted the shivers that would cross the girls nearby.

Of course, not all the female population would accept their reign. There always was that one bunch that preferred to defy the established authority. Those were just as evident. A few feet on her left, Hinata had had no problems spotting them. Three other girls, violently pushing their peers to the side as to create themselves a path, were marching towards them. They were calmer in appearance, which made them even more menacing. Nobody feared a fool.

Those three gave the impression of being less eccentric. Not at all dressed provokingly, quite elegantly in fact. There was a mean looking redhead that seemed to be the leader, a brown-haired girl that had 'I love me' plastered across the face and another black haired, more woman-like one that at least was eighteen and wore glasses. They reminded Hinata a little bit of her old friends. The same thought of the world belonging to them propelling them with power.

And those girls in question were just stalking the other loud-mouths, evil hidden under sweet smiles.

Not that Hinata cared. She had not been involved in school problems since the day Neji had beaten the hell out of her English teacher because he had wandering hands. That was when she turned thirteen. She was not planning on getting in trouble soon.

But, that did not mean she could not watch with interest other people getting in trouble. She could sense what was going to occur. A catfight or something like that.

The obnoxious blond lass, having trouble with her high-heels, separated from her group, laying a hand on the wall by her side and attempting to fix her discomfort. If there was one major no-no, it was to part from friends to be left alone. The observant redhead perceived right away her chance. She as well left her companions with a significant glance. The walk Hinata had engaged in became quite stagnant, giving her the opportunity of assisting to the blond girl's downfall. Once she was done with battling with her shoes, she took back her place between the other females, a few rows in front of Hinata. The redhead did not stop slithering through the line to get to the blond one, that didn't sense the threat.

Approaching the stairway, the blond disappeared at once, while the redhead remained. That was so strange.

Stepping as anybody else on the stairs, Hinata noted a puddle of something spread on the floor, in front of the stairs. When approaching a little more, she could discern a form like a fallen angel, drowning in an almost black liquid she recognized with ease. The unconscious creature was so beautiful. Like an illumination the gods sent on earth to camouflage its ugliness. Long strands of flaxen hair were expanded on the cold, hard ground shining in the setting sun filtering through the only enormous barred window there was. Her lips were smudged in the fluid they were releasing, eyelids concealing her eyes that must have been of the most striking azure color ever. And nobody was caring for such a being to be losing her life in front of their faces. They were continuing their path, disregarding their environs. Was that life? You do not know anything, you do not feel anything, the only thing being important is to keep walking?

The red-haired girl appeared. She was the only one standing out while the rest were continuing their path. Nearing the fallen girl, the red-haired one gave the impression of maybe wanting to rescue her. Oh, how Hinata was wrong! It was with shock that she saw that girl raise her foot above the swan-like neck of the fair-haired, lowering the tip of her heal on her larynx. She was pressing with a tormenting slowness, enjoying how painful it would have been if the female had been conscious. And nobody was paying attention.

In no time, Hinata found herself being spectator of that peculiar play. She did not give a damn if her peers were shoving her from one side to another, as if frantically making an attempt to warn her, yet she wouldn't budge.

There was something captivating in this school, in its people. She was absolutely enthralled by how that redhead's symmetrical visage was doing its best, using all its abilities to secrete the jealousy that was racing through her russet eyes. There was something so luscious in the blood leaking from the unconscious lass's mouth, surrounding the enemy's shoes and drowning them in hate.

She was standing there, immobile, swallowing this image of cruelty in her pupil less eye. However it did not last as the flesh color of the blond girl turned from pinkish to bluish.

She didn't know what to do. Act like everybody else and let a life being wasted, or attract never-ending problems that would most probably finish by her death and save an existence? She did not know what to do. She had promised herself not to get into trouble, yet she had never believed such scenes as the one she was witnessing could take place anywhere. The first true experience she had with the world was only blotched in blood and hate. She had the choice. She could push away the enemy, she could, but did she want? Or would she be able to shoulder another death?

The noise of girls blabbering became imperceptible. Their footsteps only were a light buzzing she ignored. In her world at the moment, they only were three. And it was to her to elect the pathway she would follow.

She was so scared when she stepped forward. When her foot collided with the redhead's one. When she pushed the girl away with one hand.

She knew she was dead meat.

Yet, she felt good. She had chosen not to be a murderer. She would be honest until the end.

That blond woman that was lying on the ground was now maybe the most important person in her life. The one that had pushed her finally to chose.


	3. Chapter 3

**This might be the last chapter for a while. I am going back to school in two days, and have this enormous writing project to do throughout the year. I think I might finish it by winter if I work well, however cannot promise anything. I am going to try to update each month yet cannot promise anything. **

::Chapter 3 ::

She looked at her blood stained dress. She couldn't believe she had had to drag that blond girl that had fallen down the stairs to the infirmary without any ANBU budging from their post to help a dying woman. It had been to her to swing the numb arms around her neck and haul the body from one floor to another, no teacher passing by even turning around to help her. Thank Kami, Shizune-san had appeared out of thin air to help her with Yamanaka Ino, as Shizune-san called the unconscious girl. It seemed as well she was aware of who had done the bluish bruise on Ino's throat. Another girl known simply as Tayuya.

An ambulance had been called according to the rumours Hinata had heard when coming back to her room, her stomach empty, at eight o'clock and thirty minutes of the evening. She had been transported most probably to Konoha byōin, the academy's private hospital where only teachers, workers and students were held. She had heard coming from her social worker's mouth that most medical students of Kodai (abr. for Konoha daigaku) preferred to get themselves a job in that hospital than to affront the world and readapt themselves to other systems. They had quite an interesting Psychiatry wing that used the old ways of electroshocks and spanks on their patients. In other words, Hinata would have to be more discreet than she had been on her first day.

She still remembered that Tayuya's blazing orbs when she had pushed her away from her victim. She had felt the odium emanating from the redhead, penetrating her skin, winding around her soul and wringing it until Hinata almost regretted she had interposed herself. That girl was freaky. In a very bad way.

Launching her slender form on her bed, she bounced slightly on the hard mattress, her dress flowing in the air like a ghost. She was quite grateful she hadn't eaten. She wouldn't be obliged to make herself vomit this time. Her father always said, and her ballet teacher never had hindered himself to agree, that fat women were ugly and that she was twice her mother's size, when uncle Hizashi had never stopped saying that she and her mother would be twins once she grew up. Too bad he had to die in that stupid car accident. He must have been the only person ever having loved her even if her father had more than one time reminded her that her dear uncle had tried to asphyxiate her when she only was five.

She couldn't believe how much her father had influenced all her life choices and the image she had of the extern world. It was unimaginable. She had the impression she had lived her whole life in a body of another that was born to serve. A slave. A bird imprisoned in a golden cage. A puppet.

It was so weird to fight and finally flee that golden cage to find yourself wishing you were back again in its cosy security. She almost regretted her acts. Scratch the 'almost', she regretted her acts. Hiashi and Hanabi were human beings after all, never minding what they had done to her. Hanabi was so young. Only eleven years old. It was not her fault she had been raised like a princess and spoiled to no extend. Hinata had tried to take over her mother's duty and bring her little sister up decently, yet their father encouraged greatly Hanabi's bad-temper and impolite behaviour. He called it temperament, something he had reproached Hinata not to be gifted with till his last breath. But in the end, she was sure he deeply appreciated her lack of personality. She had done for him things even Minagawa's cheapest prostitute wouldn't have agreed to accomplish.

She was so disgusted by herself. Something her poor psychiatrist had desperately tried to understand. He said she knew she was the victim yet acted as if she was responsible of everything that had happened between her and her father from her eleventh year until his death. He had a good opinion about her meagre intelligence. He had told her something about the Stockholm's syndrome, having difficulty understanding she couldn't have been touched by it as she had not been literally jailed. He was just as stupid as she was. And young. Too young and too sweet. She hated men, especially men like him that preferred other men. She knew how to manage heterosexuals, but homosexuals were a mystery to her. Anyway, men never comprehended when not to get implicated in dangerous situations. If Neji would have learnt she was being taken care of by a male, gay or not, he would have found a way to inform him that his help was not required. He was so jealous. They had gotten involved in a relationship when she had turned thirteen, she had never known why as he had hated her until then. He had not welcomed at all her disturbing link with her father and had made her aware of it in very painful ways.

But why the hell was she thinking about that at the moment?

Jumping from her bed she glimpsed at the hideous clock on her wall. She exactly had two minutes to get prepared for shower. First experience. She already blushed at the idea of being surrounded by nude bodies. Those were women's bodies, just like hers, yet she did not feel like exposing that soiled form of hers. However, she knew better. She had to obey. This school was just like her father … in more dangerous. If she wanted to survive she had to oblige herself to become nothing. Void.

That is why she painfully slipped her panties down her thighs, leaving goose bumps on the path her fingers had taken. Unclasping her bra, she threw it away from her, her full chest liberated from its binding, grabbing the bathrobe she had disposed before diner on her desk.

She already hated this place.

°°

It was with a deep blush that she entered finally, with twenty other girls, the bathroom. She had seen other girls exiting and entering the steamy room, throwing her dirty glances. In the beginning, she had thought it only was the fruit of the unhealthy atmosphere engulfing the school, but she had to admit that most of the glares were directed towards her. She was not stupid enough to disregard the reason why she was so silently shunned. She would never again help someone, even if that certain someone could have died. And then again, in the disgust they displayed, fear lingered. She didn't know why but she could smell the fright emanating from their bodies when they looked at her. It was dreadful.

Finally penetrating what must have resembled public baths, vapour encircling her like an enemy, she flushed even more realizing the lack of privacy.

On her left side, hangers were installed for them to suspend their bathrobes. On each one a number was written, corresponding to the number written on the plaque they had received before going in.

It was … organized. That was good … she thought so at least.

Her first day at that asylum was an absolute hell. She hoped that the next day would be less mind-breaking. School had been her only get-out when everything in her life was being shit. She expected for it to preserve its utility.

Under the eyes of masked men and women, standing like wax statues their backs leaning on the wall, she slid down her bathrobe, revealing a stainless white skin. She could sense the eyes of the masked people on her. She only hoped they had no bad thoughts. She favoured to think that they were planning some wild movements and observed her only to foresee her potential attempts to escape.

With an ample movement she hanged her clothing under the number eighteen, extracting shampoo considered as cheap by her family, a tooth brush, tooth paste and soap that would most probably leave her skin dry and fragile out of the little pink bag where she had stuffed her hygienic articles.

Her head low, for her strands of night-coloured hair to fall over her full breasts, she placed herself underneath the shower number eighteen, framed by girl number seventeen and nineteen. It was with shock that she felt hot water pouring right on her back, burning her delicate flesh.

She had better to fasten herself with her cleaning. She had exactly five minutes to get herself ready for bed, like any other female. If she had glimpsed at the girls around her, she would have noticed how easily each one of them was able to do two, sometimes even three things at a time. Shaving legs while brushing teeth, soaping one's body with one hand whilst washing hair. In her case, it was with rush that she tortured her poor scalp, brushing her teeth with soap and bathing her body with tooth paste. Thank Kami laser existed and she had no need in shaving anywhere.

When the water stopped flowing and an ANBU barked for them to get dressed and exit the bathroom, she still had her toothbrush stuck between her teeth and her soap against the skin, eventually she had realized she had been using the wrong elements to cleanse certain body parts. She was so stressed and on the border of tears because treated in such an ignoble way that she didn't notice the glares the girls were shooting at her. She didn't even perceive their words that most probably would have sent her to an even deeper hell than what she could imagine.

She only hurried to dress up and swallow back the tears that were threatening to course down her cheeks. When finally getting out of that steamy place of torture, she could have sworn she had heard the disguised monsters snicker.

°°

He had finally touched the four billions his father had left behind only for him. Uncle Hiashi and his encumbering clan out of the way, it was easy for him to control all the contacts he had established with the Italian and Russian mafias that only begged for an entrance on the Japanese territory. Yet, he had a few problems to keep the Russians still. That bitch Inuzuka Tsume was had married that Ivanovitch asshole seventeen years ago, setting up a link between the Ivanovitch family, the strongest mafia in Russia, and the Inuzuka clan, known for their unscrupulous bounty-chasers, opening the doors wide for Japan to be infested by fucking Slavs.

He remembered the story saying his poor uncle had begged that old friend of his to marry him. He had humiliated him in quite a way according to the Bunke elder members. She had coldly refused. The rumour was that he did love her and that it should not have been a wedding of profit and convenience. That was quite silly to imagine Hyūga Hiashi caring for anybody than him and his youngest daughter. She already had had a female child then. That kid was to inherit the Inuzuka business while the boy she had had with that Ivanovitch would without any doubt succeed to his now dead father.

People said that Inuzuka woman was not beautiful, her daughter resembling her, yet she had that something that made you want to follow her blindly. In battle, she was merciless and vicious, as she was in real life. She was not an especially intelligent woman, in fact, if she was not stupid either; she was very impulsive which pushed her into some gruesome problems. She had raised her first husband and a part of her clan against her with her showy behaviour. Ivanovitch Sergei had been necessitated to calm her crew down. In exchange of her hand, he promised he would soothe the rage she had provoked with her liking for blood more than money. Indeed, he had killed her daughter's father and enchained his followers, marrying her and an adorable little fortune of six billions. That very year, she had given birth to a boy, an heir, named Ivanovitch Inuzuka Kiba if he recalled well, known as Inuzuka Kiba, and that was detained actually in Kogaku (abr. for Konoha gakuen). Her daughter named Inuzuka Hana was as well situated on the same territory, subscribed to Kodai's fall/winter session. She was studying veterinarian medicine if he was right. How unintelligent of her. What would she be doing with a veterinarian formation when she was to take over her family's business?

He snapped his fingers for a waitress to come over and serve him another whisky on rocks. He did realize he was underaged, but nobody else did so he took advantage of their ignorance to do whatever he wanted, would it be drinking, smoking or driving his black Ferrari.

"Don't snap your fingers at me, young man." a biting voice answered his gesture.

He had no need to turn around on his seat to know who was standing behind him, most probably smirking.

Removing his Black Russian from the crystal ashtray he had left it on, he motioned it towards his thin lips, drawing in a long breath of the perfumed fumes escaping its tip. He would need all his patience to discuss with Inuzuka Tsume.

Before he could even say a word, a tall blond-haired man glided into the seat facing his, followed by a much smaller woman wearing an expensive looking white fur coat most probably maid of arctic fox. A man just as tall, large and blond as the previous one closed their little parade. The two men were wearing black mantles that must have concealed a few weapons.

"Pardon my attire, Hyūga-san. I am directly coming from Siberia and haven't had time to change." she said in an amused voice, her shoulders shrugging the fur of, revealing a tight, dark turtleneck.

What he had heard about her appeared to be true. She was not a beautiful woman. She had a strong, masculine jaw, framed by thick locks of wild brown hair. Her little and full lips were chapped and tinted in a bluish color. They did not match quite well her solid chin. Her straight nose was imperious in her face. When the lower part of her visage was severe and strong the upper was feminine and elegant. She had very beautiful deep almond-shaped eyes adorned with thick, long, black eyelashes. They were shaded nicely by the graceful curve of her delicate eyebrows. She was a strange one.

What gave even more impact to her peculiar appearance were those traditional Inuzuka tattoos dying her cheeks in blood red fang-like paintings.

Her neck was long and white, beautiful in her shirt. His eyes couldn't disregard her mature breasts that however could not compete with his cousin's. She gave the impression of having very long legs and attractive hips complimented by a slender waist. She was athletic in other words.

He now understood why his uncle had desired her so much. She was eye-catching. The aura surrounding her was full of things nobody could understand. It was something engulfing, something devouring and enviable.

He himself, only seventeen, could feel it in the air. She was ready. Ready for anything to happen. And that was what drew people to her, this sensation of dangerousness that followed each on of her steps.

Without realizing he already was in the Black Widow's net, he kept on detailing her while she was giving orders in a harsh language he knew to be Russian to her two henchmen. There were quite a few reasons she was called Tsume _Mantis religiosa_ Ivanovitch in Europe, and he started realizing one by the way she was bossing around those two Slav killing-machines. It was as if they had been trained from the beginning to obey only to her. He supposed that the whole clan was that way. To be clear, Ivanovitch Sergei most probably did not die of a heart attack as the legists have announced. Maybe had he been poisoned or perhaps strangled during a love-making session? What was sure was that she had gotten rid of him when he had become superfluous.

If his informers had been accurate in their information hunt, she would have been younger than expected, maybe thirty-six. He was aware of the fact that she had given birth to her first child when only a child herself, not older than fifteen years old. If what he knew was true, she had been pregnant when entering Kogaku and had given birth to the child the very day they had transferred her from jail to the academy. The toddler had been entrusted to its grandparents after six months, and Tsume had married its father when she had gotten twenty-two.

With a carnivorous grin, revealing big canines that reminded those of a wolf, she snapped her fingers as he has done previously to attract a little waitress's attention. When the lass came scattering towards her, the poor girl stayed completely petrified when she noticed the red marks on her customer's high cheekbones.

"Three one litre Stolichnaya Elit (one of the most expensive vodkas in the world)! What will it be for you, Hyūga-san?"

"Whisky on rocks, like usual, Minako."

His biggest pride was that he knew everything about the places he frequented, from the owner to the maids.

The young woman still did not budge mesmerized by Tsume's looks. The older woman more and more amused by the situation tilted towards the waitress, brushing a hand over one of her gorillas' chest.

"That's the moment when you turn you heels and bring us our drinks, sweetheart."

The young girl blushed with humiliation, running away to the bartender at the other corner of the lounge.

With interest, Neji studied the barman swiftly pouring some golden whisky and disposing three enormous crystal bottles on Minako's plate, before disappearing through the bar's entrance.

Vacillating under the weight of her order, she made a few uncertain steps towards them. Neji felt some pity for the poor thing, he almost wanted to hurry himself and help her, yet couldn't while in important company.

When she finally managed to accomplish her duty, she almost slammed the plate on the table.

To Neji's astonishment, his three companions reached for the drinks in the same barbaric movement. They uncapped them with ease and poured half of the heavy, transparent vodka in their gullets. That in less than ten seconds.

He had to restrain his jaw not to drop at the way the Inuzuka treated her henchmen. It was as if they were family. Another reason why she was so popular with her men. Tired of the five hundred millilitres she had swallowed in one shot, she leaned her head on the man she called Igor, sitting by her left side, while a long, leather covered leg, flattered by strong high-heeled boots, raised itself to rest on Boris's lap.

He noticed the two men did not seem to be bothered by her behaviour. Igor even affectionately removed the strands of brown tickling his strong neck.

"So, Hyūga-san, alone in the world, aren't you?"

He had no idea what to respond to that, yet had no chance even to open his mouth.

"You know, you remind me of your uncle. You look like him so much. I suppose you resemble your father, but who cares, they were twins."

To his surprise she stopped her soliloquize, griping the fur coat still sticking to her back. Her hands frenetically criss-crossed her attire, searching something that seemed to be vital at the moment.

When finally she dragged out a white cigarette package, he heard her groan in satisfaction. With interest he read the gilt inscription on the stylish box. _Sobranie White Russian_. His uncle's favourites, when he couldn't stand their flavour. Her good mood drastically changed when realizing that her silver, ruby-incrusted, lighter a dear old friend had given her had been forgotten in her second residence. She almost bit one of her employees with rage.

Neji inclined himself towards her to signify he had light. Comprehending the message she extorted a long, white stick out of the pack, tossing it afterwards to Igor who, once a cigarette in the hand, launched it at Boris over his boss's head.

She approached her face from the young man's, her spicy breath caressing his right cheek. The tips of their respective cigarette's touched, linking them for an instant.

She didn't linger, tearing away to offer her acolytes some fire as well.

After the first puff wolfed, she spoke again, now more than serious, her deep glance shining aggressively.

"I know what you want me to do, and it's no! I am not going to delay the entry of my men in the country for you to secure your territory. The Akimichi and Aburame are starting to gnaw at it, and I don't give damn. Now that your dear uncle is not there anymore to hinder all my attempts I am going to conquer Japan, like I did with Russia!"

She was a very frank woman and he appreciated it, just as much as the flames igniting her pupils. He would have to convince her in any manner that an alliance between the two of them would profit her more than him.

"Tell me, Inuzuka-sama, do you have an entry in the government, or are you only an insignificant little Russian mafia?"

"I am a diplomat, Hyūga-san. Of course I have entries, however you have none."

He chuckled a little bit.

"If what you said was true, you wouldn't hurry that much to invade the country. You first of all would secure your children, than your clan, finally your money, and then, maybe, if the time is conducive to attack, you would do so. You see, Inuzuka-sama, now that the Hyūga has been shattered, it is getting more and more dangerous to enter in the country. You are known for the chaos you set, yet you have proved yourself not to be able to work in a chaos you haven't provoked. You wouldn't want to happen what occurred seventeen years ago, would you?"

A howl escaped Tsume's throat, catching the attention of other customers. She did not answer, being right away overwhelmed by a man, the barman that had come back, pushing some keys in her hands and bowing profusely under the Russians' sarcastic cerulean eyes.

Boris stood up under orders, letting Tsume slid of the seat and Igor follow her. She pushed bills into the bartender's hands in exchange of the keys that Igor now held forcefully.

Neji in his case was glaring at her, deeply crushed. No woman ever had made fun of him, especially not refused him what he wanted.

Standing up as well, he seized Tsume's arm, making her face him again. He read some shock on her odd features, as she did not seem to have been accustomed to such stubbornness.

"I withdraw what I have said. You do not resemble your uncle. He was meek compared to you. Nonetheless, I am not changing my mind, Hyūga Neji. I am not going to help you. You have to learn to depend only on yourself, young man."

His grip became painful, yet she didn't even budge, habituated to pain way worse than that clutch.

Desire, rage and indignation swirling in his pearl-tinted eyes, he hissed with animosity those words that made her reconsider her position, establishing finally Hiashi's death.

"I'll make you change opinion."

She had thought that maybe there was something of her old friend obscured by that seventeen-year-old's image, yet she had been wrong. For the first time, her instinct had betrayed her.

Slanting towards his ear, her smoky voice perfumed with the aroma of expensive vodka, whispered a number that for anybody would have been a presage of infortune, however to him appeared like an omen that would bring wealth and luck.

"Room six hundred sixty-six."


End file.
